The Journey North
by myownmind
Summary: Fraser is suddenly recalled back to Canada. Apparently not all is yet forgiven. A crossover with 'North of 60' in that I stole Corporeal Brian Fletcher to run the detachment Benton is assigned to.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own the characters from 'Due South'. They belong to the people who created them and the actors that played them. I also don't own Officer Brian Fletcher from 'North of Sixty'. I just really liked him. Lastly, I didn't make any money in writing this story._

_A/N- This is a story that's been rattling around on my shelf for a while. I decided I might as well submit it and see if anyone was interested in it. For once, I've actually finished this story and so have more of it to post. Let me know what you think._

_Susanne_

**THE JOURNEY NORTH**

CHAPTER ONE

"What's going on, Fraser?" Ray Vecchio had a decidedly uneasy feeling about this.

"I've been transferred back to Canada," Benton Fraser replied not looking up from packing his few belongings into his duffle bag. Diefenbaker was lying under the kitchen table, his head resting on his front paws, unhappily watching his two human friends.

"Why? Did you make somebody mad at the consulate?" Ray pushed.

"Not that I'm aware of," Fraser replied. This was hard enough he didn't need his friend's constant questioning.

"Come on, Benny." Ray caught hold of his friend's arm and turned him so he'd look up at him. "Tell me what's going on."

"I don't know, Ray. I received my orders this morning. I'm on a plane back to the Territories tonight." Turning away, Fraser set the packed bags beside the door. Taking a deep breath, he turned his troubled eyes back at his friend. "There was no explanation."

"What time tonight? At least I can take you and Dief out for your last civilized meal before you go," Ray persisted.

Pausing for a moment, Benton looked at his one friend in the city of Chicago and slowly smiled. "All right, Ray. Let's go."

OOOOO

Later, Ray helped Fraser unload his bags from his car at the airport. They'd all ready dropped Diefenbaker off at the customs office. The wolf was going to have to go through quarantine before he'd rejoin his master.

Handing the RCMP officer the last bag, Ray closed the trunk. "Keep in touch, okay?"

"I'll let you know once I've found out what's going on," Benton assured him. Extending his hand, Benton shook his friend's hand warmly. "Thank you, Ray."

"Anytime," Ray replied. Then he was gone.

OOOOO

Two days later, Constable Benton Fraser stood on the airstrip. He was a solitary figure, his few belongings in a pile at his feet. The other passengers had vanished into the night, seemingly in the blink of an eye.

The sun had gone down hours before, dropping the temperature even further. It felt as if a blizzard was on the way. It was good to be home, even if it wasn't exactly home. Fraser'd heard of Taloyoak, formerly Spencer Bay, but he'd never had the pleasure, until now.

The cold was finally getting to him. There didn't appear to be any shelter. The airport would be locked up at his hour and he had no idea which direction the town was in. "Where's Dief when I need him?" Fraser asked himself as he stooped down to pick up his bags.

Suddenly, the area was flooded with light. His hand shielding his eyes, Fraser found himself facing a Suburban with the headlights on.

"You need a ride?" a voice called out to him from behind the blinding lights.

"Yes," Benton called back, relief flooding through him.

"Put your stuff in the back," the voice instructed.

When Fraser got alongside the vehicle, he found a young man of Inuit descent behind the wheel.

"You the new mountie?" the young man asked, thumbing the release for the back. Fraser quickly loaded his stuff inside.

"Yes. Could you take me to the detachment, please?" Benton asked, getting in the passenger door. During the long months in Chicago, he'd missed the cold, much to Ray's chagrin. But Benton was thankful for the heat the Suburban's engine was labouring to push out. He guessed he must have gotten soft.

"Sure." The driver turned the vehicle around and headed back down a road hidden behind the buildings. They travelled the two miles to the town in silence. Following a trail where the snow had been packed down, the driver managed to get Benton to the front door of the detachment. "That's ten bucks."

Handing the driver the money, Benton unloaded his bags and stood, watching, as the Suburban's taillights disappeared in the gathering storm. The path to the detachment was exactly that, a path. It was packed down from people walking over it. Once Fraser reached the end of it, he discovered that it, like that airport, was locked up tight. Banging on the door didn't illicit any response.

The inn probably wasn't very far away and neither was the barracks. But nothing in Inuit villages was marked. If you didn't know where you were going, then you were pretty much out of luck.

Frustrated, tired and a little scared, Fraser turned his attention to the snow bank piled up beside the building. He had been unable to sleep since leaving Chicago and was beginning to feel the effects. A few minutes later, Fraser had an adequate shelter dug out. At least it should keep him warm until morning. Using his bags to barricade the entrance, Benton rapped himself up as best he could. Then he was asleep.

OOOOO

"I'd hear he was a little off," a voice said outside Fraser's makeshift shelter. It was followed by a derisive snort.

"You were supposed to pick him up last night!" another voice demanded. There was genuine concern evident.

"I forgot," the first voice replied. Benton was having a hard time coming around. It must have gotten colder than he'd first assumed. That and the lack of Diefenbaker's body head were combining against him.

"Come on," the second voice stated. "Help me get him out of there and warmed up."

The young RCMP officer could faintly hear the sounds of digging, followed shortly by a cold breeze waiffing into his shelter. A set of hands slid under his shoulders and he was being pulled out into the frigid air.

"He's soaking wet. Got inside and get the living quarters read." Fraser desperately wanted to open his eyes, jump out of this man's arms and be okay but his body wasn't cooperating. He was beyond cold. He'd stopped shivering long before he woke up. Otherwise, he would have realized the danger he was in and tried to do something about it. He really was getting soft.

The two men had moved him into the RCMP headquarters and were frantically wrapping him up with blankets.

"Constable Fraser, can you hear me?" the second voice asked. Someone was rubbing him hands in an effort to get the circulation going again.

"Yes," Fraser managed. He could finally open his eyes but it took a few moments longer before he could focus them. He found that the man rubbing his hands was a corporeal. He had a wide, open face, almost baby like, with brown hair and pale blue eyes.

"Feeling any better?" the corporeal asked. His was the second voice.

"Much," Fraser replied.

"There's quarters built on the top of the building. I'll take you up there, get you dried off and comfortable before I call the doctor. All right?" the corporeal asked. The other officer was nowhere to be seen.

"I can manage," Fraser insisted, trying to force his body into a standing position. His legs were a lot wobbly but they held. He hated the idea of accepting help from anyone, especially his superior. He'd never needed help before. Well, except for Ray down in Chicago.

"All right. I'll get your bags and bring them in for you." Corporeal Brian Fletcher could tell that Constable Fraser was in rough shape but he wasn't going to force his help on the man. "The quarters are right through that door and up the stairs."

"Stairs?" Suddenly, what little strength Fraser had seemed to have ebbed out of his body, leaving him leaning heavily on the desk beside him.

"Come on." Fletcher caught hold of Fraser just as he had started a slow downward slide off the desk. He slung Fraser's right arm across his shoulders and headed for the stairs. "Dodds, get his stuff," he shouted over his shoulder.

Once Fletcher got his new constable upstairs, dry and comfortable, he set about making some hot soup and coffee. Fraser was lucky he hadn't died out there last night. Most people would have. Other than being cold, the young man seemed to have come out of the experience with nothing worse than a cold. For the life of him, Fletcher couldn't figure out how Dodds could have forgotten to pick Fraser up. He'd reminded him before he left last night and Dodds had even taken the Suburban to make the trip.

Dodds came clomping up the stairs, carrying the two bags Fraser had had with him in the shelter. He deposited them on the top step. "I'll keep an eye on the store," he said before heading back down.

While the soup cooked on the stove and the coffee ran through the maker, Fletcher moved the bags beside the bed. "Do you want a doctor?" he asked. He wasn't too clear on the first response.

"No, sir," Fraser replied. He hated the bed but wasn't feeling up to moving. Despite how weak and achy he felt, Benton honestly didn't think he needed to see a doctor. The meal the corporeal was making would go a long way towards rebuilding his strength.

"Who are you, sir?" Benton remembered to ask.

"Ah, yes. I guess we haven't really gotten around to introductions, have we? I'm Brian Fletcher, the officer in charge." Spooning the soup into a bowl, he carried it and a cup of coffee over to the bed. Benton struggled to prop himself up with the pillows enough to be able to eat.

"I'm sorry about this, sir. About all the trouble," Fraser said, eating slowly.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're all right," Fletcher responded. "I have to get downstairs. If you need anything, just yell." Then the corporeal was gone.

A few minutes later, Benton could hear a heated argument going on but it quickly subsided. His fingers weren't real cooperative but Fraser managed to finish the soup and most of the coffee. He placed the dishes on the nightstand beside the bed before drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

A few hours later, Corporeal Fletcher decided to check on Fraser. He hadn't heard anything from upstairs since he came down.

Reaching the top step, Brian had a momentary start when he realized no one was in the bed. Then he noticed that all of the blankets were gone too. Almost in disbelief, Fletcher walked around to the other side of the bed to find Fraser wrapped up in the blankets, sleeping soundly on the floor. His head was resting on one of the pillows.

"To each his own," Fletcher said to himself. Satisfied that the young man was doing all right, he went back to the detachment and his reports. But not before shutting the coffee maker off.

OOOOO

Corporeal Fletcher checked on Fraser a few more times during the course of the day. Each time the young man was asleep, lying beside the bed. Brian couldn't stomach the idea of leaving Fraser alone when it came time to go home. Instead, he moved up to the living quarters, taking his reports and a book he'd been reading with him. Dodds had gone home, showing little interest in the new arrival.

Fletcher and Dodds had had words earlier but Fletcher honestly couldn't believe that he was sorry. That didn't sit well with him.

Pushing all of his thoughts and doubts aside, Fletcher turned his attention to what to make for supper. He'd have to wake Fraser and get him to eat something but at least the young RCMP officer was looking a little healthier.

OOOOO

"Constable Fraser." Someone was calling him from what seemed a great distance. As the seconds passed by the distance decreased.

Opening his eyes, Benton found Corporeal Fletcher sitting on the bed, looking down at him. "Yes, sir?" he managed. His mouth was a lot drier than he'd expected. Benton didn't even know what day it was.

"You're off duty, Constable. You don't have to call me 'sir'. How do you feel?" Fletcher asked.

"Better," Fraser replied, propping himself up onto his right arm. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About twelve hours. It's almost seven," Fletcher replied.

"I've slept through my entire shift, sir?" Benton couldn't believe it. In his entire life, Fraser had never been sick enough to sleep through a full day. The fact that it had to happen on his first day back to a RCMP detachment was more than a little unsettling.

"Don't worry about it. Here, have something to eat." Fletcher handed Fraser a plate and utensils. Then he settled back in the only chair to continue reading his book.

The food smelled very appetizing, suddenly reminding Fraser of the fact that he was starving. The first few mouthfuls were a little touchy but once he realized he wasn't going to be sick, Fraser attacked the food with a little more vigour. It didn't take long before he was feeling tired again.

Setting the plate aside, Benton lay down and was asleep in moments.

OOOOO

The next time Fraser awoke, it was a reaction to a cold stethoscope being placed on his chest.

"It's all right, Fraser. I was starting to get a little worried, that's all. Doctor Lawrence is going to check you over," Corporeal Fletcher said upon seeing Fraser's eyes flutter.

"I'm fine," Fraser croaked, trying to dislodge the stethoscope. It felt like a piece of ice pressed against his skin.

"I'm afraid I don't agree with you, Constable Fraser. You have a fever and your lungs sound slightly congested. I'm giving Brian a prescription for antibiotics. Are you allergic to any drugs that you know of?" the older man standing beside the bed asked.

"No," Fraser responded. He hated to admit it but he really did feel like crap.

"Good. Now, I want you to stay in bed. I'd rather you were actually in the bed." The doctor paused and scowled when Fraser shook his head no. "Okay. Um, take two of these three times a day until they're gone. It'll probably take three to four days before you start to feel better. So get some rest."

Fraser tried to sit up but found he didn't have the strength. He had to be satisfied with being propped up on his shoulder.

The doctor held out a hand with two pills in it and a glass of water was held out in the other one.

"What are these?" Fraser asked. Benton hated to take medication of any kind, especially if he didn't know what it was.

"Penicillin. Here' s some Tylenol to help reduce your fever," the doctor stated. He moved the hand with the pills a little closer to the young constable.

"I'd rather not," Fraser began. Then he caught a stern glimpse from Corporeal Fletcher and changed his mind. Accepting the pills and the water, Fraser downed both as quickly as he could. The glass empty, he handed it back to the doctor.

"Keep a close eye on him. I'll be back tomorrow," the doctor said. Then he was gone.

Looking at his watch, Fraser realized he'd been asleep for at least another twelve hours. It was seven o'clock and dark outside. Before he had a chance to ask, Corporeal Fletcher smiled. "7:28pm. You've slept through a whole day. Before you say anything, it's okay. You have eight weeks of sick days. You're entitled to use a few of them."

"You looked at my file?" Fraser asked, unease creeping into his mind.

"Yes, I know you turned Lieutenant Gerrard in. I think you did the only thing you could. Are you hungry?" Brian asked as he got out of the chair and headed for the kitchen area.

All Fraser could manage was a brief nod of his head. He was in a state of shock from his superior's revelation. When Fraser returned to Chicago, it was under the impression that he was hated in Canada by his fellow RCMP officer. He'd turned in one of his own. Yet, here was a RCMP Corporeal telling him he understood his decision and respected it. It allowed Fraser a glimmer of hope that things weren't going to be as bad as he'd first thought they'd be.

Fletcher turned his attention to making a quick meal. He felt better now that the doctor had examined Benton. He'd been really worried when Fraser had begun wheezing around five o'clock. He'd phoned the doctor but Lawrence hadn't been able to get to the detachment until now. Brian felt even better when Fraser had woken up. At the very least it was a good sign.

By the time Fletcher had heated the plate he'd made earlier in the microwave oven, poured a cup of coffee and turned around, Fraser was asleep again. Shaking his head, Brian carried the plate and cup over. He set them down on the night stand and proceeded to try to wake the young man up.

Several moments later, Brian finally had Fraser propped up on pillows, semi-lucid and eating slowly. He thought about starting to brief his newest constable but then he thought better of it. Brian had the feeling that not a whole lot would penetrate or be retained right now.

Once Fraser was finished, he curled back up on the floor, his blankets askew and forgotten. He was soon asleep again. Beginning to feel a bit like a mother hen, Fletcher untangled Fraser's legs from the blankets. He straightened them out before covering Fraser up securely.

Brian wasn't really looking forward to another night of watching Fraser sleep. But he wasn't quite comfortable with leaving him alone yet, even if all Fraser did was sleep. Sighing heavily, Brian sank down into his familiar chair and started on page one of his book. He'd read it once but hadn't had time to go get another one. It wasn't a bad story, although the characters could use a little more development.

OOOOO

Meanwhile, back in Chicago, Ray was becoming extremely worried. From his own experience he knew it took about three days to get anywhere in the high Arctic. Fraser had been gone for eight days now and still no word from him.

Ray knew his friend well enough to realize that he took his responsibilities very serious, more seriously than anyone Ray had ever met. He would see phoning Ray as one of his responsibilities. So Ray was really surprised when he hadn't heard from him after the third day. By the eighth, he was on the verge of panic.

OOOOO

"I hadn't realized I was so weak," Fraser said, sinking down onto the bed. He'd managed to stand for the first time since becoming ill. It felt wonderful to be up and about but it also was a little scary to realize that he'd only walked around the small room twice and was all ready exhausted.

"That's to be expected," Corporeal Fletcher replied. "Would you like to take a bath?"

"Desperately," Fraser replied. He hated to admit it but he really had developed an order all his own. He couldn't remember getting much less washed since he got sick.

"Give me five minutes," Brian said. He disappeared into the small bathroom. Then Fraser could hear water running.

While he waited, Fraser's thoughts wandered. In the back of his mind he had the feeling that there was something he had to do. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was. Absently, he realized he'd have to ask Corporeal Fletcher to check on Diefenbaker. He seemed to have been in quarantine for a long time. Then the thought was gone as Brian came out of the bathroom.

With some help, Fraser got to the bathtub, undressed, and submerged in the warm, cleansing water. It would have been so easy to just slip back to sleep. Rather than drowning, he kept himself busy washing off a few layers of sweat and grime off his skin. Fletcher had left to give him some privacy. He was thankful for that, Fraser never was real comfortable being naked around another human being.

With only a limited amount of difficulty, Fraser washed himself and his hair. Feeling almost human again, he carefully climbed out of the tub. He paused to wait for a wave of nausea to pass. Then he dried himself off with the towels Fletcher had left out for him. On the counter, he found a clean pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt.

Walking out into the common room, he stopped when it dawned on him that he was alone. He'd been independent his entire life. But in the last week he'd become accustomed to waking up to Fletcher's present, even when Fraser couldn't see him. The room suddenly felt so incredibly empty.

Chastising himself for being weak, Fraser made his way over to the sink and poured out a glass of water. He soon discovered that everything he tried to lift the glass to drink it, it shook. Hard. It was so bad that he was getting wet.

Behind Fraser he heard Brian coming up the stairs. He refused to ask for help with such a simple task even if it was made considerably harder by exhaustion. Steeling himself, Fraser gripped the glass harder and slowly brought it to his mouth.

The first mouthful nearly choked him but after that it was smooth sailing.

"I brought some clean blankets. I thought the other ones may need to be washed," Fletcher said. He was alarmed by the pallor he saw in Fraser's skin. But he figured that the activity was probably good for him and chose to ignore it. Quickly, Brian made up another bed on the floor. He'd long since given up trying to get Fraser to sleep on the bed. Fraser was asleep within moments of lying down.

OOOOO

Two days later, Fraser was pretty much back to his usual self. He felt well enough to report to duty, against Fletcher's better judgement. At eight o'clock, Fraser was downstairs in the detachment, looking reasonably healthy in his uniform browns. Fraser had thought that he'd finally get to meet Dodds but evidently he was on patrol somewhere.

The better part of the morning was spent familiarizing himself with the files, reports and territory. About mid-afternoon, he finally remembered to call Ray. Feeling extremely guilty, he dialled the number.

It rang several times. Benton was beginning to think no one was going to answer when it was finally picked up. "Detective Lewis," a familiar voice growled.

"Hello. I'm looking for Detective Vecchio," Fraser stated.

"Detective Vecchio isn't here. Can I help you?" Irritation filtered into Lewis's voice.

"When do you expect him back?" Fraser asked. This wasn't making much sense. But then, rarely did sense enter into any equation where Ray was concerned.

"Is this the mountie?" Lewis asked suddenly.

"Yes."

"He's taken two weeks off. You might want to try him at home," Lewis suggested.

"Thank you," Fraser said. He hung up the receiver. He was a little disappointed that he hadn't gotten through to Ray. Evidently, his friend wasn't very worried.

Just then, an older man made his way into the detachment. He had white hair with a little gray and a cane. He also had a visible limp. "May we help you, sir?" Corporeal Fletcher asked as he stood up from his desk.

"I'm worried about my daughter. She went for a walk this morning to take pictures and draw. I haven't seen her since," the man said, a slight French accent obvious.

"Maybe she just got a little side-tracked," Fletcher replied. He walked over to the counter that ran the length of the room.

"We're not from here. We're working up here. She's lost." The man seemed so certain.

"All right, we'll start looking for her. Do you know which direction she went in?" Fletcher was pulling on his winter jacket.

"She was heading north," the man replied. He'd hooked his cane on the edge of the counter.

"Wait here. We'll be back as soon as we find her," Fletcher instructed.

Outside, Brian looked Fraser right in the eye. "Are you up to this?"

Fraser nodded his head yes.

"Did you study the maps?" Fletcher persisted. He wasn't sending the young constable out without knowing he was prepared.

"Yes, sir," Fraser replied.

"All right. You take this skidoo and head north east. I'll go northwest. She's probably not very far."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you very much for taking the time to read this story. I wrote it years ago and am a little embarrassed by parts of it. I've thought about adjusting it but this is one of the few stories I've ever finished and have decided to stay true to it. I just hope you can be a little forgiving ;)._

_Thank you very much for the reviews! I greatly appreciate them!_

_Susanne_

CHAPTER THREE

Forty five minutes later, Fraser was still looking. He was on the north side of the ridge and had so far found no sign of the woman. Benton had stopped the skidoo, not his preferred mode of transportation, and was searching with binoculars. The radio was crackling quietly to itself. Fletcher had checked in fifteen minutes previously. His superior hadn't found anything either. It was as if the woman had vanished without a trace.

Over the ever blowing wind, Fraser could dimly hear a skidoo coming up behind him. Turning, he watched as the vehicle pulled up beside him. The man driving it must have been Constable Dodds because he was wearing a RCMP jacket.

"Hello, Constable Fraser," Benton said as he extended his hand.

"Yeah, I know," Dodds replied, a hard glint in his dark eyes. "Lieutenant Gerard is my uncle."

Momentarily stunned by the revelation, Fraser never even saw the blow coming until his head was lit up by the impact. Dodds was on him before he had a chance to recover. Then Dodds was pounding on him with his fists and feet. Fraser worked to protect himself when a lucky blow to the head knocked him unconscious.

OOOOO

Dodds ditched Fraser another ten kilometres away from town before getting rid of the skidoo. He wanted the young man dead, plain and simple. If it looked like he took a bad spill and then died of exposure on the way back to town, so be it. If they thought it was foul play, he didn't care. If they never found his body, all the better.

Kicking the unconscious man in the right kidney one last time, Dodds climbed onto his skidoo and raced away. Fraser could have saved them both a lot of trouble if he had just died when he was sick. Oh, well, it wouldn't take very long now. Dodds smiled to himself as he sped away.

OOOO

A short while later, the woman Fraser had gone in search of came upon his unconscious form. All ready snow was piling up on the side of his body.

Shocked, she knelt down beside him and quickly examined him. He was alive, barely, and had obviously been beaten severely. It was also just as obvious to her that he'd been left for dead deliberately.

Scanning her immediate surroundings, Sandra found a small cave mouth in the ridge wall. She had checked Fraser for broken bones and hadn't found any. Satisfied, she slipped her hands under his shoulders and began pulling.

It took almost all Sandra had to make it to the cave mouth. She'd had to ditch the backpack she'd been carrying several yards back. She figured it wasn't going anywhere and she could come back and get it once she had the RCMP officer set up.

Sandra's father had thought she was being over cautious when she'd packed the bag. To be honest, she'd begun to doubt her own sanity. Something or someone refused to let her leave the house she shared with her father without the bag. It was packed full of extra clothes, non-perishable food, which was a task in itself because she was a vegetarian, a first aid kit, matches, a large sleeping bag and a few other things she couldn't recall at the moment. Now, of course, she was extremely grateful for listening to herself and doing it.

Leaving the RCMP officer in the cave, Sandra went back to retrieve her backpack. As an afterthought, she retraced her steps and carefully erased any sign of their passing. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out where they'd gone but anyone who attacked an RCMP officer wasn't a genius.

Satisfied that the trackers were covered, Sandra struggled to get Fraser into the sleeping bag before striking out in search of shrubs and wood to burn. Luckily they were still in the foot hills, otherwise there wouldn't have been a prayer of finding anything as a fuel source. When Sandra found some, she was glad she'd appropriated the officer's utility knife. The shrubs were harder to pull out than she'd expected.

OOOOO

Back in the cave, Sandra used some of her sketching paper to start the fire. She'd have to be careful with it and not use it up. She knew she'd be pretty useless at getting the wood burning without it.

With the light of the fire and a flashlight Sandra found tucked into one of the pockets of her backpack, she did a more thorough examination.

The first thing Sandra found was his wallet. She wanted to know this person's name and if he had a medical condition such as diabetes. If he was diabetic there wasn't a prayer she'd be able to care for him. His name was Benton Fraser and she couldn't find any medic alert certificates hidden anywhere. Setting the wallet aside, Sandra proceeded to peel off his jacket and shirt now that the temperature in the cave had risen. Now that snow had blown in to cover the entrance the temperature was much easier to moderate with the small fire.

Benton had several bruises welling up on his chest, arms and stomach. After palpating his stomach, Sandra didn't think he was bleeding internally or at least not enough to make his stomach hard. There was a particularly nasty bruise along the ride side of his face and a few open cuts on his scalp from where he'd been kicked. His legs were in about the same state, bruised and cut.

Carefully, Sandra rolled Benton over. His attacker seemed to have targeted his kidneys as there were several black bruises on his back where the organs would be located in the internal scheme of things. There were a few other marks but none that seemed particularly serious.

Sandra's biggest concerns were Benton's kidneys, the blows to his head and his right forearm where he had been dealt a particularly vicious blow. In her earlier exam she hadn't thought he had any broken bones but under closer scrutiny she wasn't so sure, the ulna and/or radius of his right arm were probably cracked.

With the flashlight, Sandra checked his pupils and found them to be responsive, a good sign. It had been over five years since she'd graduated as an Animal Health Tech. Most of that time had been spent working in a bowling alley but it was all coming back with amazing clarity.

Sandra checked Benton's capillary refill time by pressing her finger tip against his gum and counting until the colour came back once she released it. She had no idea how or if human doctors found out if their patients were bleeding internally but she felt much better when she found the time to be within normal parameters. For an animal anyway, Sandra had no idea what it should be for a human. She was just assuming it was about the same. At least she'd be able to tell if it changed.

Gently, Sandra got Benton dressed and wrapped up. There really wasn't much she could do for him but watch over him and keep him warm. She rummaged through her bag until she found a small coil ring note book and a pencil. Climbing into the sleeping bag with Fraser, she propped herself up on one elbow, opened the notebook and started to write.

Time disappeared, just as it always did when Sandra wrote her stories. The world outside had gone dark but she didn't know how long ago. She didn't have a watch to figure out what time it was. Her father would be worried sick about her. There wasn't anything she could do about that right now so Sandra pushed the thought away.

Climbing out of the bag, Sandra put more wood on the fire and then rummaged through the backpack in search of food. It had suddenly dawned on her that she hadn't eaten since morning. In the pack she found a tin of brown beans and a can of mixed vegetables. Opening the tops of the cans, she placed them in the embers along the edge of the fire to simmer. Then she settled back to stare at the dancing flames.

OOOOO

Corporeal Fletcher wasn't having a good day. On top of having a worried father and a missing girl to worry about, now one of his constables was missing. Resting his aching head in his hands for a moment, Brian tried to collect his thoughts. Mr. Hassette was pacing back and forth in the small office while Dodds was leaning back in his chair, looking decidedly unconcerned.

The door to the detachment scrapped open. Looking up, Fletcher saw a man and a dog enter.

"Detective Ray Vecchio. I'm looking for Constable Fraser," the man said. The dog stood at the man's side, whining loudly.

"So are we," Dodds stated, finally showing interest.

"What are you talking about?" Ray demanded, taking in the two officers and the man.

"He's missing," Fletcher explained. The dog's whining increased and it was trying to get back through the door. The man was obviously a southerner. He was bundled up against the cold like a mummy and the bag he had slung over his shoulder made a dull clanking sound every time he moved, possibly indicating concealed weapons. Definitely American.

"How long?" Ray demanded. He was quickly losing patience, especially with Diefenbaker. The wolf was going crazy, trying to get out the door.

"Since this afternoon. We were looking for a missing girl and he failed to report in," Fletcher informed him.

"I'm going after him," Ray stated. Then they were gone before Brian could voice an objection.

By the time Brian reached the door, there wasn't any sign of Detective Vecchio or the dog. "Great. Now there're three of them out there," he muttered to himself. Unfortunately, he couldn't go after them tonight. He'd be lost before too long himself in the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

His friend's scent was fresh and clean. Diefenbaker knew he could reach Fraser in a matter of an hour or so but he also knew that his counterpart wouldn't be able to keep up the face he'd set. Grudgingly, he slowed down to a speed the much more awkward human could manage.

For Ray's part, he thought his heart would burst, he was breathing harder than he could ever remember breathing and yet he didn't feel like he was getting any air. The damn wolf had finally stopped running and was doing donuts in the middle of an ice field.

Thinking of donuts reminded the Chicago PD detective just how long it had been since he'd eaten anything. He didn't have much time to dwell on it though. Dief was off and running again.

The wolf stopped part way up the ridge wall and began pawing at something. It took Ray a few moments to realize that Dief had found a cave but there was something hanging across the entrance. Pulling his gun out, he pushed the obstruction aside, practically tripping over Dief when the wolf jumped inside.

"Stop right there!" a woman shouted as Ray got beyond the patrician. He found himself facing the barrel of a .38 calibre Smith and Wesson service revolver. The person holding the gun was a young woman with long brown hair and brown eyes, propped between her legs was Fraser. Ray's friend was asleep or unconscious, his head resting on the woman's right shoulder, his eyes closed.

Benton was wrapped up in a sleeping bag, leaning against the woman. She had one arm wrapped protectively around him. In the other she pointed the gun at Ray's head. He knew the report itself would be enough to throw her aim off even if she had the safety off, which he doubted, so he wasn't worried about his own safety. Apparently she was more worried about Fraser's than her own and that impressed him. Slowly, Ray slipped his hand into his coat pocket. He was hoping she didn't pull the trigger before he could get his bad and ID out.

"What do you want?" the woman demanded. The gun was amazingly steady.

"I'm Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago PD. I'm a friend of Fraser's" Ray said. He'd gotten his wallet out of his pocket, opened it to his badge and flashed it at her. "How is he?"

"He's had better days," the woman replied. Diefenbaker was whining inconsolably. He knew instinctively that his person wasn't in any danger. All he wanted was to check for himself.

"Could you put the gun away before you hurt someone?" Ray asked.

"How do I know I can trust you? Fraser was left out there to die. I'm not going to let that happen," Sandra challenged, the gun still aimed at his chest.

"Look, I can tell you I'm a good guy until I'm blue in the face. What matters is that Fraser's hurt and needs to see a doctor. How long has he been asleep?" Ray asked.

The woman stared at Ray for a few long moments, shrugged, and put the gun down beside her. "He's not sleeping. He's been unconscious since I found him this afternoon," she stated.

Dief finally figured that it was safe so he bound forward and licked his friend's face.

"The wolf's his. Can I look at him?" Ray asked, moving forward with a great deal more caution that his counterpart.

"Sure," the woman said, carefully extracting herself, leaving Fraser lying on his side.

He didn't really know what he was looking or but Ray examined his friend anyway, pausing when he found the arm she'd splinted. The bruises on Fraser's face were what shocked him the most. The swelling around Fraser's jaw had moved up to include his eye, sealing it shut.

"Who are you?" Ray asked once his exam was complete.

"My name's Chris."

"Okay, Chris. Is he going to be okay?"

"I don't know." Chris had situated herself on the other side of the fire. Close to the door in case she had to make a quick getaway.

"This," Ray pointed at the splint. "would indicate some medical knowledge."

"Yeah, on animals. Your friend should probably be in a hospital but I have no idea who to trust. The person who did this to him is still out there."

"A little paranoid?" Ray asked. He understood how she felt but couldn't resist the remark.

"A lot. Are you hungry I was just going to make some soup and try to get him to eat it when you showed up."

"I'm starving."

OOOOO

Fifteen minutes later, Chris had melted enough snow to make the soup and then boiled it in a large tin she'd packed in the knapsack.

"How did you think to pack all this stuff? Were you planning on spending a few days out here?" Ray asked. He and Diefenbaker had settled in, much to Chris's apparent discomfort.

"No, I was only coming out here for a few hours to draw a picture or two. I'd never imagined staying out here. I have a tendency to be overly cautious. Here're some sandwiches to go with your soup." She propped Fraser's head up on the pack so she could feed the young Mountie without choking him.

"You're the one they were looking for." The realization had finally sunk into Ray's head. He was thoroughly enjoying his chicken noodle soup and egg salad sandwiches.

"Probably." Around the third spoonful, Fraser sputtered as it went down the wrong tube. Then his eyes fluttered open to stare, questioningly, at Chris.

"How do you feel? Are you all right?" Chris asked, surprised to see him awake.

"Where am I?" Fraser asked, still looking very confused. He hadn't noticed Dief or Ray yet.

"I found you out in a field. I brought you here to keep you safe and warm," Chris explained. Setting the soup aside, she did a more thorough check now that he was awake.

"Thank you." There was a paused while Fraser checked his surroundings. His eyes came to rest on Ray and the white wolf. "Hello, Ray."

"Hi, Benny. How are you?" Ray didn't want to push his friend.

"What happened to me?" Fraser asked.

"You don't remember?" Ray answered his question with another question.

"Not really. I remember being sick and then a woman disappeared so I went to look for her. Everything after that is blank." Fraser forced his body into a sitting position and accepted the tin of soup Chris handed him.

"What were you sick with?" Chris asked.

"A cold," was the quiet response.

"Were you on antibiotics?" Fraser nodded yet. "Did you finish them?"

"No," Fraser replied after thinking for a minute.

"That's it. We're taking you to the settlement in the morning, after we all get some sleep," Chris stated.

"What about the guy who wants Benny dead?" Ray wanted to know. He wasn't looking forward to a night on the stone floor with no blankets but it was better than exposing Fraser to any further danger. Especially when they had no idea what direction it was coming from.

"We can keep him safe. I'm not willing to take the chance he'll come down with pneumonia," Chris stated. "I'm in way over my head here, detective."

A brief look at Chris's face proved to Ray that she truly believed what she said. "All right, in the morning."

"I suggest we all get some sleep," Chris said, taking the tin and spoon away from Benton since he'd finished eating. Making sure he was comfortable lying on his side, Diefenbaker curled up against his chest and stomach, an arm wrapped around his wolf, Chris laid down on the floor between the fire and the door. Her life thus far had taught her not to trust men, any man, and while she felt she could trust these people, she wasn't ready to. Yet.

In minutes, Chris was asleep. Ray took considerably longer to succumb, he wasn't real comfortable. Every place he laid down, a piece of floor seemed to be sticking into his back.

For his part, Fraser had all ready slept more in the last week than he normally would in three. He wasn't tired. Rather than disturb the others, he lay where he was and tried to remember what happened. All the while his eyes rested on Chris, across the fire.

OOOOO

Chris was the first to feel it, a cold breeze invading their shelter. As quickly as it started, it stopped. Instantly alarmed, she rolled over to face the door, jumping to her feet, prepared to defend herself and the others.

Relief flooded over her when she saw who had entered. "Simon! What are you doing here?" she asked, resisting the urge to hug the Inuit hunter.

"Your father was worried," Simon stated, simply.

By this time, Ray and Fraser had woken up and were looking at the intruder somewhat suspiciously. Even though Chris seemed to know him, Ray wasn't about to take any chances.

"I'm so glad to see you! Did you come by skidoo?" The Inuit man nodded his head, yes. "We need help getting Constable Fraser back to the settlement. He's been pretty badly banged up. Ray and I can walk if necessary."

Simon shook his head no. "Corporeal Fletcher is outside. He has a sled."

It only took Chris a couple of minutes to collect her things, including the patrician, which happened to be her winter coat. What took the longest was getting Fraser up, out to the sled and wrapped up in the sleeping bag again. That done, the two skidoos headed out. Ray and Chris kept a close eye on Fraser and the other RCMP officer, just in case.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

At the hospital, Fraser was thoroughly examined, treated and put in a single room. Ray stayed with him through the whole process. Chris had gone with Simon to tell her Dad she was okay.

"Does he know who did this to him?" Corporeal Fletcher asked. Constable Fraser was asleep after being given painkillers by the doctor. Ray stood by his bed.

"No. He doesn't remember," Ray replied.

"He's going to need protection," Fletcher said.

"It's taken care of," Ray growled.

"You and the girl?" Corporeal Fletcher couldn't really believe the detective but he also couldn't blame him or the girl if what they had said was true. He just didn't think they were equipped or prepared for what they had taken on themselves.

"We're the only people we trust and Constable Fraser. At least until he remembers."

"All right. I'll check you in a couple of days." Fletcher left.

Diefenbaker had snuck into the hospital and had taken up a position under Fraser's bed.

When Chris came back, Ray excused himself long enough to take a shower. It felt so good to be warm without his bulky winter coat. He wished desperately that he was back in Chicago, a place he knew and understood. Very much unlike the frozen tundra he was on now.

Feeling significantly more human, Ray went back to the room. Chris was sitting in a chair, her back to the wall, facing the door, writing furiously in a small coil notebook. "What are you doing?" Ray asked.

"Nothing," Chris replied, jumping guiltily and closing the book.

"What were you writing, a journal?" Ray suddenly realized he didn't know anything about this woman who'd risked her life for his friend. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have given her the time of day, much less tried to get to know her. She was overweight, not overly beautiful and kind of short. Nothing that fitted his criteria. But he found himself wanted to know more.

"I write short stories," Chris replied, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Can I read it?" Ray asked.

"They're for my own purposes. No one else would like them," she said, still looking very uneasy.

"Come on, it can't be that bad."

Feeling very rebellious, Chris handed over her book and waited as the detective read what she'd written. Part of her was expecting the horrified expression she'd always figured would com eif she let anyone other than her sister-in-law read her stories. Another part was terrified itself to have allowed anyone into her private world.

Ultimately, Chris knew one of two things would happen. Either Ray would prove her right, that her stories were sick and twisted or he would prove her wrong. Both alternatives would be therapeutic, one way or another.

The story was longer than he thought it would be. Pausing on page fifteen, he found the other chair and sat down before continuing. He was distinctly aware of Chris watching him. He was careful not to allow any emotion onto his face until he finished reading.

"So?" Chris asked when he'd put it down.

"Very good," Ray replied smiling. He wasn't a literary genius or anything but he'd honestly enjoyed it.

The relief that spread across Chris's face was almost comical, if he hadn't know how much his opinion had meant to her, he would have laughed. "Thank you," she said, retrieving the book. "I wasn't sure anyone else would understand."

"What's to understand? You write a good story."

Fraser shifted position in the bed and then gasped as his body protested. It had taken just about all it was going to.

"Benny, are you okay? Should I get the doctor?" Ray was just about to the door before Fraser could answer him.

"No, I'm okay."

"How do you feel?" Chris asked, moving beside the bed.

"Uncomfortable," was the reply. From the way Fraser was moving around, she concluded that it must be his back that was bothering him.

"Why?" Chris asked.

"The bed's too soft. I'd prefer to sleep on the floor," Fraser stated.

"I don't think the hospital would be very receptive to that idea," Ray stated.

"Then get me released, Ray."

"That may not be such a great idea either. We still don't know who did this to you."

"I think it was Dodds. At least he was an RCM" officer I hadn't met yet," Fraser said.

"You remembered?" Chris asked.

"Yes. He came up on me when I was searching for you," Benton explained looking a little embarrassed. "I wasn't prepared for him to strike me. He took me completely by surprise."

"I'll go find Corporeal Fletcher," Ray said. He was gone in seconds.

"Could you help me please?" Fraser was forcing himself into a sitting position, his legs hanging over the bed's edge.

"What do you need help with?" Chris asked. She wasn't sure how far she'd go to help him.

"I think the chair would be more comfortable than the bed and I'm not sure I can make it on my own." The pain killers were really doing a number on him. Things were blurry after a short distance and he was having problems with his balance. He was also a good deal weaker than he wanted to admit.

Pushing the chair closer to the bed so they wouldn't have for to go, Chris caught hold of his right arm and helped him over. Once she was sure he was reasonably comfortable, she pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around him.

"Thank you for taking care of me," Fraser said, his eyes starting to close again.

"You're welcome."

OOOOO

A short time later, Corporeal Fletcher had been brought up to speed. He wasn't terribly thrilled with what Ray had told him but when he checked on Dodds' location, he couldn't find him. No one had seen him since the day before. It wasn't like he could just disappear. The settlement was too small for that. He couldn't have even gotten on a flight without someone knowing.

"Until we find him or at least some indication of where he is, Benton is going to have to be watched," Fletcher said. The man under discussion was sleeping fitfully in the chair. The doctor had tried to move him earlier, Chris had stopped him. Fletcher, Ray and Chris were standing just outside the door, talking quietly in the hall.

"Then I suggest we get him out of this hospital, he won't sleep on the bed," Chris said.

"Yeah, I discovered that back at the detachment. I'll talk to Doctor Lawrence, see what he says," Fletcher stated.

"You do that, meanwhile, we'll get him ready to move," Ray said. He caught hold of Chris's arm and steered her into the room. He wanted to get his friend someplace safe. Suddenly the cave seemed a much warmer place.

"Benny." Ray shook Fraser's shoulder with no response. The Chicago detective had hoped to do this the easy way. Apparently, that wasn't an option. "His clothes should be in that locker."

Walking over, Chris opened the doors to find Fraser's uniform hanging inside. What she was supposed to help Ray with now was beyond her. Actually it wasn't but she'd rather not think about it. She picked the hanger up and carried it over to the bed. Ray had been unsuccessful in waking the RCMP officer up. It looked like they were going to have to dress him, which should prove interesting given his current sleeping position.

"How do you plan on doing this?" Chris asked.

"You're asking me?" Ray responded.

Becoming frustrated, Chris knelt down beside Fraser. She grasped his shoulder and pinched. "Constable Fraser, wake up!"

At first there was no response. Gradually, Benton showed signs of coming around. "Fraser, wake up."

"What's wrong?" the young officer asked, coming awake somewhat confused.

"We're getting you out of here. Here're your clothes." Chris placed his uniform in his lap and then turned her attention to packing the few things Fraser had acquired in a plastic bag.

By the time Fletcher came back with the doctor, Fraser was dressed and waiting impatiently. "You really should stay here." Fraser shook his head, no. "But, since you insist on leaving, I've given Corporeal Fletcher specific orders for your care that must be followed and some medication. I'll come and check on you tomorrow at the detachment," the doctor said, looking somewhat less than pleased. Corporeal Fletcher was pushing a wheel chair, he wasn't planning on carrying Fraser out to the Suburban and he doubted the constable could make it under his own steam. If he had to, he'd recite hospital policy. As it turned out, Benton was so happy about getting out of the hospital that he really didn't put up a struggle.

They got Fraser into the Suburban with a minimum of trouble and the ride to the detachment was short. Chris stayed until Fraser was lying comfortable on the floor. It had been a long couple of days and all she wanted was a good night's sleep someplace warm. Fletcher got the first shift since he'd had the most sleep the night before. Ray curled up on the bed while Chris started the fifteen minute walk home.

OOOOO

The next morning, by the time Chris got to the detachment, Fletcher had all ready received word about Dodds' whereabouts. He was in the process of getting ready to go after him. Ray had taken it upon himself to join him. Chris was most amused by the difference in the two officers' weapons. The American was definitely better armed. But then, that was one of the things Americans did best.

"Could you keep an eye on Ben while we're gone?" he's still asleep upstairs," Ray asked, checking the clip in his hand gun.

"Sure, just be careful," Chris responded.

OOOOO

The silence upstairs was almost deafening. There was a television but it didn't have cable, meaning there was only one channel if she was lucky. Besides, it was rude to turn it on while Benton was asleep over in the corner, still on the floor. The RCMP constable looked better today. His coloring was much healthier and he wasn't flinching in pain as he had in the cave and even the hospital. Fraser appeared to be sleeping soundly. He needed the healing sleep worse than anything else.

Settling herself on the chair, Chris began to write.

OOOOO

It could have been minutes or hours later, Chris wasn't sure when she first heard the sounds of movement down in the detachment. The door at the bottom of the stairs opened followed by two pairs of feet clomping up the stairs. From her position along the far wall, Chris waited anxiously until she saw Brian's head appear above the floor, followed by Ray. They both looked very tired.

"Well?" Chris asked, looking from one face to the other trying to find some indication of success or failure.

"He's downstairs in lock-up. Simon's keeping an eye on him," Fletcher stated, going over to the sink and pouring a glass of water. He downed it in a few mouthfuls.

"Yeah. The slime confessed to everything. We didn't even get to interrogate him," Ray added. He appeared to be a little disappointed that he hadn't been able to interrogate Dodds.

"Good. At least you won't have to worry about Constable Fraser anymore," Chris said, feeling relief creep through her.

"With that in mind, I'm going to go home and get some sleep. If anything comes up Simon can contact me there." Then Fletcher was gone.

"What about you, Detective Vecchio? Do you have a place to stay?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, right here." Ray pulled his parka off and stretched out on the bed, fully clothed.

"Have a good sleep." Then Chris was bidding a hasty retreat down the stairs. Ray didn't even get a chance to think her before she was gone.

OOOOO

A week later, Chris was at work at the Co-op, stocking shelves. She felt a presence behind her. Turning quickly, she found Ray and Fraser standing behind her. The RCMP constable looked considerably healthier, if not slightly embarrassed.

"Hi," she said, suddenly feeling very shy.

"I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me," Fraser said, looking extremely handsome in his dress uniform. The red nearly matched the colour of his cheeks.

"Don't worry about it," Chris said, quickly ducking her head. "What happens now?"

"I've been transferred back to Chicago. Feelings against me are still running too strong for me to be safe here," Benton stated.

"I'm sorry," Chris said with all honesty.

"I'm not," Ray said. "At least in Chicago I can keep an eye on him."

"If you ever come to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, look me up," Chris said. She really wanted to keep the friendship she'd started with Fraser going. She didn't have enough friends to be able to throw any away.

"Is that where you're from?" Fraser asked, smiling for the first time since she'd met him. "I was there for five weeks."

"Why only five?" Chris asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"My supervisor transferred me back to the North West Territories because I had trouble adjusting to such an urban location." The colour was back in Fraser's cheeks.

"After being here for two months I can see how Moose Jaw could be a little overwhelming," Chris replied, feeling a little more comfortable.

"Moose Jaw?" Ray said, looking incredulous. "There's actually a place called Moose Jaw?"

"Yes," Chris replied. "I was born there."

"We have to go catch our plane. What are the chances of you coming to Chicago?" Fraser wanted to know.

"None. Moose Jaw is about the right size for me, I'd get claustrophobic in Chicago if not paranoid."

"Thank you again," Fraser said.

"Yeah, thanks," Ray echoed. And they were gone.

THE END


End file.
